


I dream of home.

by 02Isisave



Category: Voltron - Fandom, Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-18
Updated: 2018-11-18
Packaged: 2019-08-25 05:02:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16654735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/02Isisave/pseuds/02Isisave
Summary: It has been three hours already, his legs hurt and his lungs itched, the cold desert wind mixed with sand hit his face and the little grains cut his young skin.A deep and hot fire moved within his soul, it didn’t matter he had not eaten all day, it didn’t matter one of his shoes fell while in his hurry getting out of that house, it wasn’t his after all, it wasn’t home.





	I dream of home.

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Español available: [Sueño mi hogar](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16654840) by [02Isisave](https://archiveofourown.org/users/02Isisave/pseuds/02Isisave)



Run.

 

It has been three hours already, his legs hurt and his lungs itched, the cold desert wind mixed with sand hit his face and the little grains cut his young skin.

A deep and hot fire moved within his soul, it didn’t matter he had not eaten all day, it didn’t matter one of his shoes fell while in his hurry getting out of that house, it wasn’t his after all, it wasn’t home.

But home was burned down.

Home died.

 

And it has been so long since he felt anything at all, but tonight he dreamed like he used to when he was happy at home, when he was with _his_ home. And he couldn't get used to that; to dream again.

 

But home died.

 

Now he was shoved in strange houses with people he can’t hear and barely sees, in places where everything is too spacious or not at all, rooms with too much darkness in which dangers dance and laugh at him, poking him with its fingers. And sometimes he ends in places that can barely be called schools or in an awful count of occasions in the juvenile detention center.

In the dream, he was in that place he used to call his own, where he has been happy just for the sake of it. He dreamed he was asleep on his old bed, the one with the patches and his father´s cologne, in his own room made out of wood and love. He got up and walked, 'today is a _no school_ day’ thought the mind of the 9 years old, and so he walked down the stairs and with a hand sliding in the walls he explored that well know house anew.

He felt happy and that felling felt odd at that moment.

‘When was the last time I felt happy?’ he thought.

A beautiful yet horrific voice broke through his contemplations calling for him in a sweet nauseous way. He felt static, joyful even, for that second in which everything was forgotten he felt at home.

 

Then reality fell on him, crushing him, it felt as if the sky had fallen on his heart and then, as nothing at all.

“Dad” and he turned, as well as his insides.

He saw him, exactly as last time accompanied by the flames that burned home down.

The flames that killed home.

And so he woke up, and ran away from this place it felt not like home.

 

 

At nine am the next day, a boy was found in the ruins of a burned down home in the skirts of the city, where the desert begins.

**Author's Note:**

> Why do i make the characters i love sufer?  
> who knows tbh
> 
>  
> 
> this story is also in FF.net and in spanish!


End file.
